Life and stories are alike in one way: They are full of hollows. The king and queen have no children: They have a child hollow. The girl has a wicked stepmother: She has a mother hollow. In a story, a baby comes along to fill the child hollow. But in life, the hollows continue empty.
Franny BillingsleyBut witchy magic doesnโt listen to please and pretty please, and anyway, I didnโt really care. I only pretended to care because not caring makes me a monster.
Franny BillingsleyI should hate to be a regular girl with a sugar-plum voice. I should hate to have swan-like lashes, and a thick, sooty neck. I sound as though Iโm joking, I know, but I should truly hate to be like Leanne, so charming and ordinary and stuffed with clichรฉd feelings. Iโm glad Iโm the ice maiden. Who wants to be crying over every stray dog? Not I. Scratch my surface and what do you see? More surface.
Franny BillingsleyNow thatโs true poetic irony. I rush into battle to defend the fair name of Rose Larkin, and what does she do but fetch Robert to stop me.
Franny Billingsley